by Ellen Clary
As the plane climbed into the air, she thought: a spy. She wasn’t a spy. She stretched, trying to move around in the small seat. She didn’t know cloak from dagger. While she was good at some manipulation, she wasn’t good at lying. She worried about their faith in her. What if she blew the whole thing? What if he found out that she was with the government and that they were watching carefully? She shuddered, shaking her head, and made herself contemplate the beautiful view.
And how was she going to be able to keep this from John? She was used to not discussing ongoing investigations with him, but this seemed different. He’d probably object—thinking it was dangerous. She had spent a lot of effort trying to convince him that looking for lost people and investigating crime scenes wasn’t dangerous. She had almost succeeded until she was kidnapped by Randall and his concern understandably went through the ceiling. John envisioned Amy doing more what her mom did, the “sit in the office and help dogs and people deal with problems of whatever sort” type of thing. She admired her mom, but she preferred something more active, at least until someone pointed a gun at her with intention. Now what her mom did looked very attractive.
ONCE AMY reached Evergreen, she stopped back at the office. Spotting Yolanda, she sank into the chair next to her desk.
Yolanda asked, “So how are the wilds up north?”
“Getting more complicated.”
“Halcyon?” she said, referring to a dangerous common drug.
“Nope.”
“Bomb factories?”
“Don’t think so.”
“Alien abductions?”
“Mmmm, naw.”
“I’m fresh out.”
“Containers.”
“Really? Those shipping containers? What’s up with them?”
“Precisely.”
“Ah. So, someone is trying to figure out what’s going on with our mystery containers.”
“The Feds. It gets better.”
“What could be better than containers?”
Amy sat up and dropped her hands onto her thighs. “They want me to try to go undercover and talk casually to one of those people, simply because the person they’re interested in takes his dog to the dog park there.”
“Oh, Ms. Bond I presume.”
“You do not presume, and when are they going to stop with this Bond stuff?”
“When we stop understanding the references—so never.”
Amy shook her head. “I don’t get it—why me?”
“What reasons did they give besides you have a dog that you can sort of talk to, and you work for us?”
Amy took a breath. “Well, that’s what I wanted to run by you.”
Yolanda leaned back, settling in. “All ears.”
“I said that I thought you were better for the job because you talk to so many people, and they said that these people still had issues with skin color. They thought that, since my skin was lighter, he’d be more likely to talk with me.”
Yolanda bit her lip and nodded, looking down, and with a shrug said, “Yep.”
“What do you mean ‘yep’? There’s not really a white or a black or a whatever anymore, so how could this still be a problem?”
Yolanda looked right at her with that matter-of-fact stare. “Girl, you are just as naive as your sort-of-white ancestors.”
“Why?”
“Look, has anyone ever been all white?”
“I don’t know.”
Yolanda held up a piece of paper. “Has anyone ever been this shade of white?”
“That white?”
“Yes, has anyone alive ever been completely white?”
“I think the answer that you, Socrates, are fishing for is: No, unless they were ill.”
“And has anyone ever been all black?”
“Close—”
“No, all black.”
“No.”
“So, the terms are?” Yolanda drew the sentence out expectantly.
“Incorrect?”
“Approximations.”
Amy raised her hands in a partial shrug. “Where are we going with this, besides off course?”
“The point is, your scary people up north—”
“They are not my—”
“Have just changed their approximations. You are closer to white than I am.”
Amy shook her head, exasperated. “This is so silly.”
Yolanda put a finger to her lips and then held it in the air. “Not to them.”
Amy threw up her hands. “I can’t believe they even care about such stuff anymore.”
“I think the more relevant issue is, can you go through with this while not voicing your actual opinion.”
“What? That I think their backwater opinions are completely irrelevant?”
“That’s a very good start.”
Amy groaned. “I don’t know.”
Yolanda turned and looked off to the right, raising her voice. “Steve, do people notice the color of your skin?”
Steve, who hadn’t been listening to their conversation and whose skin was only slightly lighter than Yolanda’s, gave them a quizzical look.
“Is this a test? When do they not?” he replied. “It’s all about ‘What gradient are you?’ Ever had dates like that? I guess not, since you and your wife are the color of tolerance,” referring to Yolanda’s much lighter-skinned wife.
Yolanda answered, “I sure did a long time ago.” After a beat, she said, “Amy’s being asked to commune with some white-only-wannabes up north.”
Steve brightened. “Oh, the not-quite-cream separatists? Aren’t they dead yet?”
Yolanda said, “Or the off-white-wishfuls. And lots of them are long gone, but there are always a few here and there and they appear to be the ones that pair of containers went to. The Feds are very interested, and they want help from the dog squad.”
Steve said, “I’m not. Interested, that is. But wow, Amy! What an opportunity.”
Amy wrapped her hands and arms over her head. “Why does everyone keep saying that? I don’t see you all queueing up to chat with prejudiced asshats.”
Steve said, “If those magic skin-color-changing things would work, and work temporarily, I might be tempted to.” He looked directly at Amy. “You can nail these people. Are they the ones who attacked Herman and Lincoln?”
“Maybe. They don’t know.”
Yolanda leaned forward and put her hand on Amy’s shoulder. “You can do this, Amy. I know you can.”
Amy just groaned louder. “I so don’t get this. Yolanda, your skin is a gorgeous mahogany and Steve is a nice sienna, and what am I?”
Steve said, “Runner-up white—”
Amy ran the back of her hand down her opposite arm, presenting it. “Light taupe. Yahoo.”
Yolanda laughed, “Taupe is grey, silly. You are so not grey.”
“How about warm taupe?” asked Steve. “You can be a house paint color.”
“Not even close. Amy, you’re more like Gimli’s color or Lars’s lower half. Amber, or a golden bronze.”
Amy kneeled down to Gimli, who was ensconced in a snuggler bed with one eye open. She put a hand on his side and said, “I’m washed out compared to his rich fur coloring.”
“And you have blonde hair,” Steve said.
Amy grabbed her ponytail. “Sort of blonde hair. I think it’s called caramel blonde.”
Yolanda rubbed at her short black hair and said, “Compared to me? Please.”
“Stop it, I love your hair. I also need to keep this from John, which is going to be hard. I usually can tell him vague stuff without mentioning names, but probably not this one. He is on TownCrier, that lowbrow of social media, and he wouldn’t be able to resist.”
Steve stood up, hands cupped around his mouth. “My girlfriend is going undercover!” His voice reverberated through the room.
Yolanda joined in. “Up north trying to blend in with a bunch of separatists. Hope she doesn’t get kidnapped or killed.”
Steve sa
t back down. “Yeah, probably best not to tell him. This is a business-hours adventure, yes?”
Amy said, “So I’m told. Do I get frequent flyer miles for this?”
Yolanda said, “Just don’t manage to crash the plane or you might get a bill.”
Steve asked, “Has anyone ever crashed a self-flyer?”
Yolanda said, “Yes, when it was given a bunch of conflicting information, though it was hard to do.”
Steve looked pointedly over at Amy. “Don’t do that.”
Amy put up her hands in mock surrender.
Steve said, “Back to John.”
Amy said, “Let’s not—”
“I think we need to come up with a cover for your cover story to tell him.”
“No, we don’t.”
Turning to Yolanda, Steve said, “We need a situation and a location.”
Using both her hands, Yolanda said, “How about east for location?”
Amy said, “Not that I’m participating in this charade, but I wouldn’t go picking any mountain locations to spend much time in right now if you don’t want him to worry about someone kidnapping me at gunpoint again.”
“South, then.” Yolanda said, “Unless he wouldn’t worry about a boat. Then you could do west.”
Amy said, “He would worry.”
Steve said, “South it is. So, let’s come up with something that sounds true so it will be easy for you. I know. You’re helping out with a cold case and confirming that a lead is viable.”
Amy frowned. “Are you testing him? That’s about the opposite of what we do. We gather the data, come up with a plausible theory, and hand it off to be confirmed by other people. So much for the ring of truth.” She threw a fuzz ball toy at him. Pearl, Steve’s yellow lab, looked up hopefully at the throwing motion, but seeing that it wasn’t an interesting type of ball, put her head back down, sighing loudly.
Steve said, “How about you’re testing more dogs?”
“That’s too interesting. Everybody wants to know what breeds you’re working with, and have you talked to their dog?” Yolanda said. “We need something boring. I know. Reports. Official ones.”
Steve said, “A report on the welfare of the canine paw pads after they’ve spent a day in the field. Complete with photos and measurements and run over several weeks. You could measure chemical changes in the sweat on the paws.”
Amy said, “Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.”
“That would make it perfect then,” Yolanda said.
Amy said, “But how am I going to pull this off?”
“With too many sentences about paw sweat chemicals,” Yolanda said.
“Yeah, I’m bored already. He’ll stop listening after word six,” Steve said.
Amy tilted her head to the right in a half shrug. “That could work—”
CHAPTER 38:
Amy at Soundside
AMY GOT out of the car once she got to the Soundside Fed office. She’d borrowed the car from the Choran LAI office. She’d flown up there and then driven over. It took more time than she wanted, but she was concerned about the logistics of programming the plane to fly into the busier airspace of the northern city. If I’m going to have to do this more often, I’ll have to learn, she thought.
The air had that fresh feel like at waterside. While it wasn’t the ocean, Fairview Sound was large enough that it had a seaside presence of its own, with the usual assortment of bossy seagulls, sandpipers, and their friends. There was even a pelican flying by. She could see a loaded ferry laboriously crossing the water and some pleasure boats, too, and everything was blue and green. The hills and the trees oozed life. The scent of fir trees was ubiquitous. The sun peeked out from behind a set of often-present clouds, and she could see snow on the distant mountains.
She was trying not worry about her meeting with the trainer. She felt out of her depth and was glad that Lars was with her. She had stipulated that Lars had to be there, though his role in this meeting would be more emotional support.
The Fed campus was designed to fit into the landscape, surrounded by trees. Its multiple buildings in dark earth tones were each only about three to four stories high, but the site still had that definite official feel to it. She spotted the general area that office visitors were directed to and headed there.
After the usual official rigmarole, she was given a visitor’s badge. There was some discussion about whether Lars needed one, too. It was finally decided that as long as he was with Amy, he didn’t need one. They were seated in an area waiting for their trainer. The chair was comfortable, but not one you’d spend too much time in. There was a nice large mural showing the city from a mountain view, and a small indoor waterfall adding soothing trickling sounds, which helped her relax a little.
As she was looking at the mural, a man in his thirties approached her. The first thing she noticed was that he was wearing a suit, but it was one that moved well with his body, and that he was comfortable in it. Suits were rare where Amy worked, so they stuck out in her mind. The next thing she noticed was that he moved with an athlete’s grace. As he got closer, he had the look of someone who got up early just to get in that five miles before work, just like her own physical trainer, Tom the Torturer. Amy realized that one day she might introduce Tom that way in an unguarded moment. Looking back at the man, she thought that he and Tom would get along so well that it might be best for everyone else if they didn’t meet.
“Hi, Amy, I’m Bill,” he said, reaching out his hand. Amy looked him in the eye as they shook hands. Bill’s auburn eyes and warm smile helped ease her nerves in the “official-feeling” atmosphere.
He ushered her upstairs and then into a room designed for small meetings. It had a nice table with several chairs around it and a large presentation screen. He had a tablet in his hands, but he wasn’t looking at it and instead just set it on the table and looked at her. “So, are you wondering what you’ve gotten yourself into?”
“More than once. I am so out of my depth on this.”
“It’s a common feeling, and I’m sure it’s no help to say ‘Don’t worry,’ but I’ll say it anyway,” he said, smiling.
“Keep telling me that,” Amy said. “I’m so afraid I’m going to mess this up.”
Bill took a breath and said, “The important thing to remember is that there are no expectations. We do not expect him to pour out all his secrets to you.”
“But what if he doesn’t tell me anything?”
“That in and of itself is information. Someone who never talks about their work usually does it for a reason, often having to do with wanting to keep information secret, or else they think it’s so complicated that no one will understand it.”
“And what if something goes wrong?”
“You will have a handler in Choran who will be nearby and listening in on your conversation, and who can intervene if necessary. You won’t be alone.”
Amy nodded and raised her eyebrows while breathing in. “Okay.”
Bill pushed the tablet on the table toward her. “Here is that background we came up with for you. Once we agree on the details, you can import it all to your handheld. For simplicity, your name is still Amy, though if you choose to share a last name I would use your mom’s last name.”
Amy looked down to see Amy Bristol written across the top.
“You are a student at the local community college. We know that in real life you’re studying psychology, so we thought that having you working on both biology and psychology might be a nice compromise. You haven’t decided on a major, but are looking to transfer to Soundside University later on. You want to be a vet, but are not sure you want to deal with blood and guts, pain, and death, hence the psychology interest. You commute in to class, and live way out of town on your family’s organic farm.” Bill looked up to see Amy’s forehead a little wrinkled with concern, her eyes fastened on him, unblinking.
“You okay?”
“I hope so, it’s a lot to take in.”
“How much
do you know about biology?”
“Er, I know ‘My toes itch,’ referring to the usual mitosis joke. And I know basic first aid for humans and dogs.”
“Well, you’re going to get really interested in nanotech if he ever mentions it, but you shouldn’t bring it up directly. You’ve been up here enough to be familiar how the weather usually is there?”
“Yeah, I try not to come in winter.”
“Try to come up with some answer to what a farm does in winter. A good basic answer is not much outside, but working on repairing things indoors, and planning crops for next season.”
Pointing at the tablet, he said, “Here is a recent photo of Adam. For the first couple of times at the park, just have Lars say hello to his dog so you can greet Adam. Just have the usual dog park conversation. We’d like you to wear a wire, but you won’t have an earpiece—is that okay?”
Amy was actually relieved to hear that help would be within earshot. “Wired is fine, but, you’re right, hearing voices can be distracting.”
“If you get into an awkward place in the conversation, either make your phone ring or have Lars race off so you have to go after him.”
“I’m still worried about how to be smooth in this identity.”
“Don’t overthink it. You’re just taking your dog to the dog park. Our hope is that he’ll eventually want to share with you what he’s working on, but that might not happen. Either way, we’ll know more than we know now.”
“What if he asks me out? Do I have to date him?”
“Oh no, just politely say you have a boyfriend or girlfriend.”
She hoped it wasn’t going to sound too paranoid when she asked, “So about this handler backup?”
“He will be in plainclothes, in a nearby vehicle, and can come into the park if necessary. You two will work out in advance whether you know each other or not.”
Their conversation went on for much longer, running through various scenarios, but Bill always came back to, “Relax, don’t overthink things.”
At some point in time, they took a break and went outside to let Lars explore the area. Bill said, “I know you’re worried about this, but I really do think you’re going to be okay, and from what I understand, you know kickboxing, yes?”